ffort, however,
seemed to prove satisfactory.

"MY DEAR MR. MORDAUNT,--Many thanks for your and your wife's
kind invitation. I have altered my plans, and no longer
expect to go to New York.

"Midnight is a friend I have never found wanting.

"Very sincerely, VIOLET EASTON."

She read this over carefully, folded, and placed it in an envelope. Upon
it she wrote the name of John Mordaunt, Esq., and the address, and
ringing a bell, delivered the letter to a hall-boy to mail.

Long after midnight she was still sitting there, gazing seemingly into
space.

* * * * *

Jack Mordaunt looked for an instant at the calendar which stood in front
of him upon his office desk.

In large numbers were printed 17, and underneath the month of March was
registered. He stopped writing for a moment. Somehow that date had
forced his mind back just one year, and as he sat there he was going
over again the incidents of that time. They were all so vivid--too
vivid, in fact, to be altogether pleasing. Had he forgotten Violet
Easton? He had tried to forget her, but his attempts were vain. Since
they parted he had never heard from or of her save that one short note,
and yet at odd intervals her remembrance would force itself upon his
mind. Her parting words, "You belong to me," haunted him.

And now, just as he was imagining that the little incident was to be
forever forgotten, that date had brought up freshly and distinctly every
detail of those three weeks. After all, what had he done? A passing
flirtation with an attractive girl! To be sure, he had omitted to say
that he was married, but, after all it was not absolutely necessary for
him to proclaim his family history to every passing acquaintance.

Somehow to-day the recollection of it all irritated him. He felt out of
sorts and angry with himself, and inclined to place the blame on others.
He shrugged his shoulders and went on with his work. He would dismiss
it all now and forever, and yet, try as he would, it would persist in
coming back.

He threw down his pen and left the table, going over to the window. The
outlook was far from encouraging, the March wind blew in eddies along
the street, and now and then the rain came down in sheets, so that the
opposite buildings were hardly visible. He shivered slightly; the room
felt cold. He went back to his desk and rang the bell. One of the clerks
answered it at on